Gone
by Tsundermom
Summary: Rewrite for John's pov after the Fall. The title is kind of garbage, but I think the story is pretty okay. Rated T for the whole death thing, and it's pretty Johnlock, so if you don't do that kind of thing you should probably steer clear.
1. Chapter 1

"Goodbye, John." I saw Sherlock teetering on the edge of the hospital. Molly's hospital. _Our_ hospital. I finally saw what he was going to do.

"No. Don't-" Then the line went dead. "SHERLOCK!" I screamed at the sky. I saw him tip one more time and fall, fall, fall, plummeting down towards the waiting concrete. His overcoat billowed out above him, filling with air. People turned to watch as my best friend tumbled off the highest building in sight… Well, maybe it's not, but it seemed that way to me. He disappeared behind a truck. _He's going to die,_ I thought, finally realizing it. This wasn't another one of Sherlock's little schemes. This was the truth. "Let me through! I'm his friend." I shouted, hoping I could get to him before the police, or the ambulance, or whoever took him away from me. _Friend,_ I thought bitterly. _That's all I ever was to him. All I'll ever be._ People parted like the Red Sea and I tunneled through until I saw him.

His body lay on the sidewalk, blood dribbling from his forehead. I let out a sob. "Sherlock…" I whispered, wishing that it would be like the fairy tales, where if I said his name his eyes would flutter open and he would be okay and alive and ticked off at me and all would be well. But nothing happened. Sherlock stayed put, his limp body still in my arms. I began to cry in earnest, not yet ready to admit that he was gone. I could feel the police and paramedics shaking me, but I wouldn't- no, couldn't- move. "N-no…" I whispered. "Don't take him away. He's gone. I'm a doctor. I should know." I tried again, louder this time. I knew they were trying to grab Sherlock out of my hands, but I didn't let go.

"Leave him be," I heard a voice behind me. "He's been through enough today. Let him stay for one more day." _Lestrade?_ I thought. "John, I'm so sorry." Definitely Lestrade. He was the only one who really knew about Sherlock, more specifically, my interest in him. He wasn't just a friend. Not to me, at least. I… I loved him, no matter the cost. Now the tiniest hope of ever being together is gone, gone with the breath in his body.

But, wait. One more moment. Greg had given me one more moment, one more minute to try to redeem myself. One more moment to spend with him, with his spirit, saying all the things I never did. I was never a very superstitious man, but when your world is falling apart around you, sometimes you have to cling to something that's safe. I felt Lestrade leave. _Good. I've got to do this alone._

"Sherlock." I whispered again, a little more powerfully this time. "Sherlock, how can you be…" My voice caught in my throat. _No. Not now._ "Dead?" I was blinking tears from my eyes, but that didn't help. I wasn't okay. Never would be. "Sherlock, I loved you! How could you not tell? How could you  leave me like this? I need you, Sherlock!" I need you here, with me!" I let out another sob. _John. Pull yourself together._ But I couldn't. I buried my face in his chest and I felt… Movement? But no, That's impossible. No one could survive that fall, not even Sherlock Holmes. He couldn't be breathing, however much I want him to be. Nevertheless, I checked, readying myself for destruction.

And...no. I knew it. Sherlock was dead. My love was dead. Of course he was. He had to be. I couldn't stay there. I left his side and sprinted home, but I couldn't bring myself to enter the doors. I realized I hadn't gone home- I'd gone to his flat. 221B. I guessed it was mine now. That thought was too much to bear. I couldn't go there, not without him. I turned from the door and stepped into the cafe next to it. I would find somewhere else to go later. For now, I needed to rest my mind and let myself grieve, let myself go, just for a minute. My brain was quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm doing this at the beginning because the end isn't the right time. So I continued the story, because 12DivergentMockinjay asked me to. This chapter is still rated T, but hesitantly. I kind of wanted to give it an M because of the ending, but instead I'm just going to put a MASSIVE trigger warning. **TW FOR BADLY WRITTEN SUICIDE.** Reviews are still appreciated.

My eyes burst open, my entire body shocked into wakefulness. I was drenched in a cold sweat, shivering even though it was mid-July. _Where am I?_ I wondered, panic gripping my brain. Then I remembered. Mike Stamford's flat. Nowhere to go. _Sherlock._ The events of the day before came rushing back to me like a flood of death. Sherlock's phone call. Sherlock falling, looking like an angel cast down from the heavens. Sherlock's corpse lying in the street.

The floor was cold where my feet touched it. I hardly felt the chill. I padded silently out the door, only bothering to put on slippers as I left. It was a warm night, and what did I care what people thought of me? The only person who mattered was gone. Though I hadn't consciously chosen a destination, my feet led me to Regent's Park, and the lake sitting in it. I sat on its bank in my pajamas and watched the far-away traffic. _Those people don't know,_ I marvelled. _They don't know that my best friend is dead, or they don't care. Why should they?_ It was amazing that the event that had changed my life was nothing to someone else. I looked back at the lake.

"John."

I heard a voice, but I couldn't see anyone. Who could possibly be speaking to me?

"John Watson. Look over the water."

I did as I was told, but all I saw was the night sky reflected back at me. At least, that was all I saw at first glance. Taking another look, I saw a hazy shape standing on the edge of the lake opposite me. It looked almost… Human.

"I know why you're here. Even if you don't, I know why you came."

I knew that voice, the way it always sounded slightly arrogant, even if it wasn't trying to. I would never forget that voice. That was the voice of Sherlock Holmes. But, of course, I must be delusional. Sherlock was dead. He couldn't be here.

"John, listen to me. At this point you have two options."

The shape solidified slightly more. I was right, it was human. A human with curly hair and a trenchcoat. My Sherlock.

"One choice is to continue on with your life. Forget about me. Forget about all the pain I caused you and move on."

I was never going to do that. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to get me to forget him. I couldn't, no matter how much I might want to someday.

"The other is to join me."

There it was. The thought had been hiding in the back of my mind, but now it emerged in all its dark glory. I could end it all. It would not be hard. I had the gun.

"The choice is yours. I know which one I would pick. I know which one I want you to pick. But I can't tell you what to do. Goodbye, John."

"No! Wait, SHERLOCK!" I screamed into the dark. His body dissipated on the other side of the lake. I knew what I had to do.

I walked back to Stamford's flat. Up to my bedroom. Closed the door. My gun was sitting next to my bed.

The end.


End file.
